


these violent delights

by withlightning



Series: ✨Kinkalot 2020 [17]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dark, Kinkalot 2020, M/M, Magic, Modern Era, main challenge #4: hunger/thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withlightning/pseuds/withlightning
Summary: ...have violent ends.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: ✨Kinkalot 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861852
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49
Collections: Kinkalot 2020





	these violent delights

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last entry for Kinkalot 2020. It has been an incredible journey, and the biggest thanks goes to the organizers and Team Sorcerers. Team, it was my pleasure. 
> 
> Thank you [Dwally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/datingwally), for constant cheering and hand holding, and for reading this through. I owe it all to you.

("I love you, oh God I love you," he can't help but repeating, watching the lifeless body in front of him shudder and come alive. The child of magic, born of the old mage and stardust; reborn of lost rituals and hope against hope, gasping for breath like a newborn, glowing and real.)  
  


* * *

  
"Magic," Arthur says, barely a day old in his second lease in life. "You told me you have magic."

"Yes," Merlin replies, the power inside him roaring to be unleashed. 

Arhur looks at him, face passive but eyes bright. "Show me."

Closing his eyes and weaving the web of magic around them akin to a metamorphosis, capturing them in a chrysalis made of the past and the present and the future, he shows Arthur.  
  


* * *

  
Merlin used to wonder where had all the magic in the world gone. Roaming around the mountains and tundras, sailing across the seas and breezing past generations, all magic users were extinct bar him, yet he knew he didn't hold all of magic. A lot, yes, tremendous amounts, yes, but not everything, not by a long shot. 

With Arthur's eyes glowing golden and the air around him crackling, thunderously charged and electric, Merlin feels a tug so strong on his insides, his magic demanding to be one with Arthur, that it leaves him breatheless and undeservingly accomplished.  
  


* * *

  
When Arthur fucks him, it's rough and hard and delicious. 

Arthur holds him in place; pins him to the wall, one hand grinding Merlin's wrist bones painfully together on top of his head, the other bruising on Merlin's hips.

There's nothing gentle about the drag of Arthur's cock inside him, unyielding and relentless with the need to reach finish. Arthur does slow down for a moment, grinds against Merlin with wide circles of his hips while biting Merlin's shoulder hard enough for Merlin to shout.  
  


* * *

  
Arthur takes in the new world with wonder and fascination, thriving to learn about wars and hunger and poverty, absorbing all the horrors of now and then, and the glint in his eyes never fades. It grows stronger.  
  


* * *

  
"Do you ever wonder why I was brought back, now?" Arthur asks him once, and Merlin's throat closes up. 

"No," he manages to croak out. 

Arthur looks at him, eyes hard and alien, and says nothing.  
  


* * *

  
("I love you, oh God I love you," he says again and again and again, the body in front of him twitching with life. The child of magic, born out of want and need, the loved leader of his kingdom, righteous and pure hearted; reborn after centuries, awaited and cherished, gasping for breath like a newborn, like an absolute always meant to be, solid and real.)  
  


* * *

  
The magic inside Arthur is growing. Day after another Merlin sees Arthur change; feels him become more powerful, more able and cunning, more drunk with the possibilities, poisoned with the overflowing magic pouring into him.

It's the ancient magic from the gods, from warriors and crime lords, magic that has murdered and given birth, and it's all rushing into Arthur, omnipotent and dangerous.

Merlin would be intimidated if he wasn't so turned on.  
  


* * *

  
When Arthur fucks into his mouth, hard and hot and wet, bumping against Merlin's throat in a way Merlin can't get enough of, in a way that Merlin never wants to end, Arthur's tight hold on Merlin's hair turning into something softer, something loving, a pale imitation of the Arthur _before_ , saying he's here to fix things, to make the world a worthy place again, Merlin feels tremendous relief.  
  


* * *

  
"There are so many wrongs," Arthur says one day, "I'll change it," he says the next. "I'll change it all."  
  


* * *

  
And he does.  
  


* * *

  
Arthur unleashes his ever-growing power on militaries, war fronts, on criminals, on wrongdoers. 

He does this from Merlin's couch, sitting there, eyes closed, eerily still, inanimate. His eyes move rapidly under his eyelids, the only movement Merlin detects, the only sign he's even alive, so still and frozen in time. 

Merlin takes his place next to Arthur. Takes the liberty to card his fingers through Arthur's hair, takes ahold of Arthur's cold hand, and takes his magic to Arthur, to his disposal.  
  


* * *

  
After, when Arthur opens his eyes, black and shiny like oil, cock hard and straining in his jeans, Merlin thinks he can feel their hands sticky with blood as he fumbles to get Arthur in his grip.  
  


* * *

  
They said, once, that Merlin was the most powerful wizard in the world. 

That was the world before this one; this is Arthur's world and Merlin is a mere bystander, a means to Arthur's brilliant, righteous end.  
  


* * *

  
Where used to be a golden aura around Arthur is now blackness. Not a void, not empty blackness, but an enticing, rich darkness with a terrible edge that, to Merlin, is the most gorgeous thing he has ever created.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking at Arthur, beautiful and sun-kissed as ever, lost to Merlin but tied to everything around them, sinking in deeper, darker. Last of Merlin's magic is escaping to join Arthur, reaching out all the way to battlefields and political summits and drug cartels, strangling, slashing and gutting, removing one evil after another. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, kisses Arthur's hand, his knuckles, his cheek, pushes his face between Arthur's neck and shoulder, breathes in deep, breath hitching. 

"I'm sorry," he mouths against Arthur's skin, and he is, he is so very sorry. 

But he'll never regret the choices he's made.  
  


* * *

  
("I love you, oh God I love you," he keeps repeating, feeling the lifeless body under his hands shudder and come alive. The child of magic, born into a prophecy, the once and future king; reborn from forbidden spells, desperation and love stronger than time, at its breaking point, gasping for breath like a newborn, like a leader of the new world, horrifying and beautiful and _real_.)


End file.
